That came too close to the fight I’d just had with Digby. “That’s really between him and me,” I said.
“Just a few days ago, you were digging around in the garbage, hysterical about who I might or might not be sleeping with, and now you’re going to look me in the eye and pretend you think sex is just about the two people having it?” Mom said. “This is not you versus me. Don’t start lying to me, Zoe. You don’t have to damage our relationship to develop your relationship with Digby.”
I wanted to smart-mouth something about her making everything all about her but actually, I could see the sense in what she’d said.
“Plus, I need to do this so if I end up becoming the youngest grandmother in my Facebook group, I can at least honestly say I tried,” Mom said.
Mom poured us coffee and we moved into the living room. The nightmare began with her uttering the line, “Zoe, sperm are sneaky. They are like Spartans. They only need to send one—”
I said, “Mom. I know how it works—”
“STDs, condoms . . . do you want to go on the pill?” she said.
“No, Mom—”
“Do you know what to do if you have an accident?” she said. “Do you know that you should check for yourself if he’s put it on right—”
“Mother,” I said. “I am able to go on the Internet.”
“Fine. Then we can skip ahead to part two.” Mom put her coffee down and put her hands on my shoulders. “Feelings.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Mom. I think we know what our feelings are.”
“But have you thought about how you’re going to feel after the sex? Some people enjoy sex without commitment. Is that what he wants?” And then a thought occurred to her. “Or is that what you want since you might be leaving this summer?”
I shook my head but I did wonder.
“Hm.” Mom laughed. “Maybe I should have asked you what your intentions are.”
* * *
• • •
Because I’m a masochist, I crawled into bed and checked my social media accounts for the first time in days. To my surprise, Jim and his kissing cousin—not my words—had already taken my place as the engine of our school’s disgust/delight dream machine. The fact that Jim had captured some of their murmured hookup conversation was an added bonus and his telling his cousin “Don’t tell my mom” had acquired a meme-life of its very own. I scrolled up and from the time stamps, I concluded that my supposed home-wrecking had become stale news.
And then I started thinking about what Digby had planned for the next day. “Meet at gym at noon if you want to come,” he’d texted me. To be honest, it’d never occurred to me that I could choose not to.
I fell asleep but jerked awake in the middle of the night. I hopped on my phone and texted him back.
“C U at noon.”
FOURTEEN
I could barely concentrate during my morning classes and by the time I went to our arranged meet-up at the back of the main gym, I was practically vibrating. And this without even a sip of the muscled-up coffee I’d brought in my travel mug.
Felix and Digby were already there and they both looked relieved when I showed up.
“Oh, good, she’s wearing her sack again today,” Digby said.
“Excuse me?” I said. I realized he meant my hoodie. “This is my favorite one.”
“Here. How many of these can you hide on you?” Felix held up a couple of four-inch square cartridges that had the Perses logo on their cases.
“Are those the tapes we need to switch out?” I said.
“Yep. These are super tapes,” Felix said. “They back up on tapes like this.” And then in a much lower voice, he said, “I think.”
“Digby, did Felix just say he thinks they back up on these?” I said.
“Yes, I have to admit . . . the intel on this is not a hundred percent,” Felix said.
“It’s not like there’s a subtle way to ask, Princeton,” Digby said.
“Okay, please don’t use your dumdum voice on me,” I said.
“But that’s the beauty of this whole thing. We can just consider this a test run since the backups happen regularly,” Felix said.
“Test run?” I said.
“Yeah,” Digby said. “So we don’t have to commit to doing it unless we both feel good about the situation when we get there.”
“But how do we decide?” I said. “We can’t freeze time and have a meeting.”
“We could have a safe word,” Digby said. “We’ll only make our move if we both say it.”
“If you both concur,” Felix said. “Ooh, like executing a nuclear strike.”
“A safe word?” I said. “It’ll either be too common and I’ll accidentally use it or it’ll be too weird and I won’t be able to think up a way to use it. I’ll panic—”
“Okay. You’re kind of panicking right now,” Digby said. “What about a signal?” He made a windmilling motion with his arm.
“What’s that?” I said.
“That’s the baseball signal for go all the way home,” Felix said. “Come on. Even I know that.”
“Wait. So does that mean we should do it or go home?” I said.
“Go for home. That means we do it,” Digby said. “What’s the confusion?”
“No. She’s right,” Felix said. “I think that might confuse me too.”
“Well, since you won’t be there, it’s okay,” Digby said.
“And won’t that be really obvious if you’re swinging your arm around like that?” I said. “Hold on. I’m already confused again. Does that mean do it or not do it?”
“Oh. My. God. What is there to be confused about?” Digby swung his arm around and around wildly. “Doesn’t this just look like go, go, go?”
I noticed his bloodshot eyes were even more manic than usual. “Have you slept? When was the last time you slept?”
“I know! Thumbs-up! Now that’s a good example of a simple signal.” Felix did a thumbs-up to emphasize his point.
“Fine. Thumbs-up or thumbs-down,” Digby said. “Happy?”
“I don’t think happy is a word I would use to describe my feelings about this situation,” I said. “But I’m good to go.”
Digby had brought Val’s car to school and the three of us set off to the lot to find it. I could tell Digby was nervous because it took a good five minutes of our wandering around the parking lot for him to remember he’d parked it on the street. But I didn’t want to screw with the morale, so I just smiled and got in the car.
Digby turned off the freeway and pulled into the parking lot of a mall made up of a collection of big-box stores beside the bus depot.
“What are we doing here?” I said.
Digby said, “I need to pick up a few items.”
“Items?” I said. “Okay, weirdo. Do you need money?” I’d already taken out my wallet because he always needed money.
But Digby said, “No, I got it covered.” And then he shut the car door and jogged into the store.
“He has it covered? He never has money,” I said to Felix. “Meaning he’s been thinking ahead. That’s not his steez. And he lost the car . . . he’s nervous. He hasn’t been sleeping, you know.”
“He told me that,” Felix said. “Are you worried his thinking isn’t straight?”
“Well, I mean, when is it ever straight?” I said. But I did wonder if maybe the stress of getting so close to finding out about Sally, plus the lack of sleep . . . “I might need your help if he’s too loopy and we have to pull the plug.”
“But I’m not going with you two to the server room, remember?” Felix said.
Right. The plan was for us to drive onto the Perses lot together and while Felix sat in his mother’s office, Digby and I would sneak into the server room and switch out the tapes.
“Then we should make a
decision before we split up,” I said.
“Okay. But now we have the same problem again,” Felix said. “How do we confer, with him right there with us?”
I stuck my thumb up and then down. “Thumbs-up, thumbs-down?”
Felix nodded. “Okay.”
“You know, Felix,” I said. “You don’t have to do this. I know what Digby means to you, but . . . you don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Felix said.
I knew what he meant.
“I was thinking the other day about why exactly we all keep getting involved with Digby and his insane capers,” Felix said.
I said, “And?”
“And I remembered some PSA about telling your teacher if you found out your friend was using drugs. ‘Friends take responsibility for friends,’ it said,” Felix said. “I don’t think this is what the PSA writers had in mind but it feels like the right explanation.”
“Well, let’s hope we get away with it again this time,” I said.
“Yes. Otherwise, it’s life in prison for treason.” Felix shivered. “Whoa. I just scared myself.”
“Scared me too,” I said.
“My mouth is dry.” Felix pointed at my travel mug of coffee. “May I have a sip?”
“Sure,” I said.
Felix then proceeded to drain the entire cup. He smacked his lips. “Whew. I think I like coffee.”
“Don’t tell me that was the first time you tried coffee,” I said.
He nodded.
“Really?” I said.
He nodded again.
“Felix,” I said. “That was a double red eye.”
“What’s that?” he said.
I was trying to figure out a way of telling him I’d fortified my coffee with two extra shots of espresso without freaking him out when Digby emerged from the store and started running back to the car.
“Just say something if you start to feel funny, okay?” I said.
“Feel funny?” Felix said.
Digby had two huge bags in one hand and an enormous cake box balanced on the other.
“What did he buy?” I said.
I looked through his bags when Digby got back in the car. “You bought yourself a suit?” I looked in the other bag. “Party supplies . . .” There were hats, streamers, tape, and random party-related junk in the bag. “All Star Wars.” There were Star Wars action figures, a DVD of A New Hope, and boxes of tubed icing I assumed was intended for the enormous sheet cake he’d bought. “What is this cake? Will we be going to a children’s party later? Or is this optimistic pre-planning for our Not-Going-to-Jail party?”
“It’s a reminder that there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” Digby said. “Speaking of . . . use the icing and write MAY THE FORCE BE WITH TEAM FONG on it.”
I frowned at him.
“It’s not because you’re the girl. It’s because Felix . . .” Digby passed his phone to Felix and started the car. “Has to call his mom.”
“Oh, boy.” Felix looked really nervous and held his stomach. “I am not good at this.”
“Just keep it casual. Your mom’s paranoia will do half your work for you.” Digby looked in the mirror and saw Felix reading from index cards. “Learn the lines and put them away. If it sounds canned, she’ll know you’re lying.”
“I’m terrified I’ll forget what to say,” Felix said.
“Terrified is good,” Digby said. “Terrified is exactly what you need to sound like.”
Digby pulled into the bus depot and killed the engine.
“The bus depot?” I said. “Why are we at the bus depot?”
“We’re picking up our responsible adult.” When I didn’t understand, Digby said, “We need someone to drive on the Perses campus and say he’s our teacher.”
“We’re picking out our responsible adult from the people at the bus depot?” I said. I looked out the window. “Literally everyone here looks like they’re on the run from the law.”
“No, I already have a guy,” Digby said.
I gave him a skeptical look.
“He was the best I could do last minute,” Digby said.
“He who?” I said. And then I saw who was walking toward the car. “Aldo is our responsible adult? No offense to him, but who is this going to fool?”
I mean, I’d first met Aldo when Digby had hired him to wreak havoc in an OB-GYN’s office so we could steal patient files. At the time, Aldo seemed to be of no fixed address and took his payment in the form of chocolate chip cookies.
“It’s just like Hamlet said, ‘The apparel oft proclaims the man.’” Digby pulled the suit out of the plastic bag. “Clothes make the man, Princeton.”
“Hamlet didn’t say that,” I said. “That Polonius guy did.”
“Whatever,” Digby said. “If the suit fits . . .”
“No one is going to believe he’s our teacher,” I said. “I mean, is Aldo working for cookies again? Or is he the one getting this cake?”
“Oh, chill. I have cash for him this time.” And then Digby got out of the car.
“That wasn’t the point I was trying to make,” I said.
“Okay, Felix, it’s time to call your mom,” Digby said, and then left.
“Felix, you see what’s happening here?” I said.
But Felix’s mom had picked up on the other end. “Hello, Mom?” Felix said. “Yes . . . this is my teacher’s phone. So, uh . . . it’s lacrosse for gym today and I left my gym clothes at home to get out of it like you told me to but now they’re making me use the sweaty unwashed stuff from lost and found . . .” Felix pulled the phone away to put distance between his ear and his mom’s yelling. “No, Mom. You don’t have to send anyone. I faked a stomach cramp and my physics teacher offered to drive me to your office. If you leave a drive-on pass at the gate, I can be there soon.” Felix hung up and flopped back in his seat. He wiped off the sweat from his top lip. “Whew. That went well.” He punched the back of my seat in celebration. “I have a good feeling about today.”
I’d been looking out the window, watching Digby help Aldo get dressed. There, standing in the open and without a thought about who might be watching, Aldo dropped his trousers.
“Me too,” I lied.
FIFTEEN
We made one more stop at the 7-Eleven, where Digby and I got ID photos taken at the instant photo booth. Afterward, Aldo got in the driver’s seat and Digby took the front passenger seat while I got in the back with Felix.
“It’s been a while,” Aldo said.
Watching Aldo getting the hang of being behind the wheel again made me nervous, so I tore my eyes away from the windshield and got to work piping icing onto the sheet cake instead. When I finished, I realized I’d done a good job writing in a straight line largely because Aldo was a great driver. I didn’t even mind the ’70s easy listening station he chose for his driving music.
By the time we got to the security check at the entrance to Perses, I was feeling much better about our plan and I’d relaxed to the point where I didn’t immediately sense danger when the security guard asked Aldo, “Says here you’re dropping off Felix Fong at Admin Building B?”
“Yeah,” Aldo said. Clearly, though, Aldo hadn’t really understood the guard’s rapidly spoken question, because when he tried to parrot it back, Aldo said, “Feelings Fog. Adam Biddle Bede.”
But the guard was absorbed in looking over the paperwork, so he missed it. “This drive-on pass is only good for two people.” The security guard pointed at us with his pen and counted us off. “One, two, three, four.” He threw his hands up. There was a long moment of silence. “I can’t let you drive on the campus with these extra passengers.”
Digby leaned over across Aldo and said, “Actually—”
But Aldo suddenly spoke up. “I’m dropping off these two at home aft
er.” Aldo pointed at Digby and me and shrugged. “I’m doing the sick run today.” The security guard still looked dubious, so Aldo said, “Hey, man, I’m happy to leave this kid here at the gate.” He pointed at Felix. “But his parent probably wouldn’t—”
“No, no. Don’t do that.” Under his breath, the security guard said, “Susan Fong’s kid. Hell, no.” And then he waved us through.
We got to Admin Building B and Aldo parked Val’s car.
“Okay, Aldo. That was great,” Digby said. “Now, come in and have some lunch.”
But Aldo didn’t get out of his seat.
“Aldo?” Digby said. “Everything okay?”
Aldo ran his hand over the steering wheel. “I used to have a Saab.” Aldo removed the keys from the ignition and held on to them for a long beat before handing them back to Digby. “I didn’t realize how much I missed having keys.”
Digby looked momentarily knocked out of his orbit but reset and said, “First this, Aldo, and then we’ll talk about your situation, okay?”
We walked Aldo to the cafeteria and after Digby gave him a few twenties, we made our way to Felix’s mom’s office. Once we got to her floor, Felix brought Digby and me into the men’s room and texted, “Mom I’m lost. What is Armes 35?”
“That’s all the way across the campus,” Felix said. “It’s also where they process hazardous waste. She hates the place and if she thinks I’m in that building—”
Felix put his finger to his lips. We heard footsteps run past the men’s room. And then we heard the sound of a stumble and the heavy thump of his mother falling down. But then we heard her get up and walk away. Finally, we heard the elevator doors open and close. Seconds later, Felix’s phone got his mother’s panic-typed text message: “Im xominh Frock.”
“I think this means ‘I’m coming, Felix.’ We have at least ten minutes if she takes the golf cart. Fifteen if she runs,” Felix said. “But we have to be careful. Mom’s assistant’s office is right next to hers.”
Once we were in the office, Digby and Felix assembled Perses ID badges for Digby and me using blanks they took from a box in Mrs. Fong’s desk drawer and the photos we took in the booth at the 7-Eleven.
Trouble Never Sleeps Page 12